Sunday, May 20, 2007

Greener Grass

When I was in high school, all I could think about was college. My life would be so much better in college, I was sure of it. I would be in class just a few hours a day, certainly no professors would condemn me for chewing gum, there would be no strict dress code, no curfew…Hello, freedom! Once in college of course, I dreamed of my life after graduation. I just knew I would get a fabulous job, and there would be no more all night sessions memorizing the linguistic patterns of Native Americans, or papers analyzing the rhetoric of gender trouble. No more stupid fraternity parties and fashion show football games. No, I had grown tired of it all rather quickly; I was ready for my ‘real life’ to begin.

But then came graduation, followed by an internship in NYC. When that wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, I longed for London, where I felt sure my true destiny lie. Once in London, I found my destiny alright, but I convinced him that our lives would be much better in the States. Once back in the good ole USA, Louisville of all places, I just knew that things would only improve if we moved to Atlanta. Once in Atlanta, well, we all know where I went from there.

To say that my grass looks greener elsewhere is an understatement, and I’m beginning to think that I may have a problem. It’s not that I’m unhappy really, but I keep looking for a way to make things better. And that way always seems to involve packing my bags. To quote the wise words of my favorite band, Soul Miner’s Daughter (I’m still hoping for a reunion), “Everywhere is perfect but the place you want to leave.” Is that true? Is that me?

The grass here is pretty green, I guess...
Moose and I at the park where we (try to) run.
I’ve been in Africa only seven weeks, and already I can feel it happening, even if just with the little things. At the movies, for example, I sigh as I take a handful of cold, usually stale popcorn. “I miss real movie theater popcorn,” I say. Roger insists that it tastes the same, but he’s truly delusional. With my mouth full of stale popcorn I continue, “If only we were at the movie theater in Atlantic Station.” Roger reminds me that the crowds at Atlantic Station drove me crazy, never mind that it cost us $9.50 for each ticket. Here, it costs us 20 Rand each – that’s less than $3 a ticket. Plus, a big bucket of popcorn (albeit stale) and two soft drinks are a grand total of 33 Rand – that’s less than five bucks. So he has a point, but what I wouldn’t give to watch a movie in Atlanta, I think.

I’m also getting frustrated by the fact that no one here seems to understand a word I say. I repeat myself, I speak slowly, I spell things – it’s a bit ridiculous. It’s not my family, they usually know what I mean, but waiters, clerks, parking lot attendants, and anyone I speak to over the phone – well, I may as well be speaking Japanese. But then I remind myself, that part of why I love living abroad is that sense of being unique. It makes me feel exotic to hear, “Oh, I adore your accent.” Me? I have an accent? Well, apparently so, and no one seems to understand it!

Here’s another one, again food related (What can I say? I’m a girl who likes to eat!). This past weekend I mentioned to Roger how much I missed our date nights at BW3’s, our favorite place for wings and trivia in Atlanta. It was nothing fancy, but I’m not a particularly fancy girl. Roger reminded me that I often used to pine for Nando’s, our ritual Sunday night meal in London. “At least we can get Nando’s here in Joburg,” he said, and sure enough, Tuesday night he took me on a date to Nando’s. The boy has an answer for everything (both an adorable and infuriating trait).

He’s right though. I do have a tendency to pine for what I can’t have, and I think that’s a tendency in all of us, to an extent. I’ve listed a few silly examples of the things I’m longing for from my past life, but the main things I miss are people, of course. I’m afraid as long as I have loved ones scattered across the planet, the grass will always seem greener somewhere – that is until I can scoop up everyone I love and take them to an island. Yes, if I could live on a beach with everyone I love from Atlanta, Joburg, Chicago, Edinburgh, California, Nashville, Texas, Connecticut, New York, Virginia, D.C., North Carolina, Louisville, London…well, maybe then I would be content.

But then again, I might still miss Nando’s.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Wanted: Female seeking female with BFF potential

I need a girlfriend. You see, I’m a girls’ girl, and fortunately, I have never lacked for girlfriends. In fact, I never understood those girls that claimed to not like other girls. You know the ones I mean, the ones that always say – usually as if it’s something to brag about – that she doesn’t know why, but all of her friends are guys. I never liked those girls. Clearly, they missed the best part about being female – girlfriends.

Whenever I move to a new city, I leave girlfriends behind. And each time, as tears are shed and promises made, I wonder how I will ever find another girlfriend like Alison, or Joanna, or Laura, or Kirsty, or Bridget. After my most recent goodbyes, I think I’ve finally realized that I won’t find another Stephanie or another Robin or another Katie, but I will find someone else. Someone who fills a space in my heart that I may not even know that I have.

I’m currently on the search for that person here in South Africa. It’s a tough thing to do, especially when part of me wants to spend all of my time emailing and calling my girlfriends back home. Why should I make new friends when technology connects me to the best girlfriends the world has to offer? And yet, it’s tough to split a bottle of wine over the phone, or watch a girlie movie together, or meet for lunch at a little cafĂ©. So alas, I start the search.

This week was rather productive. Tuesday night, the company Roger works for held a party to launch their newest division. The night started off a little rocky – Sally complaining because she doesn’t have a drink and Bryan shouting at the waiters but blaming Sally because she has confused the waiter by asking for Black Label when she should know that they only have Red Label (they did, in fact, have Black), and me glaring at Roger as he scans the room for people he might know.

Roger and I with the crazy in-laws before the party

After my first glass of wine I express my annoyance, but he claims to be looking for people he can introduce me to. Fair enough, I suppose. I ask a waiter for another glass of wine. By my third glass, Roger has found one of his colleagues, Mark. I met Mark a few weeks ago in the office, but this time he has his wife with him. She looks nice enough, so when Roger and Mark go to the bar, I strike up a conversation. I’m doing my best to be charming and witty, and I think it’s working, but then again, after three glasses of wine I always find myself charming. She seems smart and funny though, and she doesn’t have kids yet, and she jokes about hating to work out and drinking more than she should. I decide I love her and begin to concoct a plan to make her my new BFF.

I am also introduced to Roseanne, who is the girlfriend of one of the sales guys. She is sweet and nice and owns a spa (an excellent quality in a girlfriend), but when she mentions that she’s twenty, I’m not so sure she’s worth the effort. Twenty? She might as well be twelve. I then consider the fact that my sister-in-law is twelve years older than me, and yet, she has welcomed me into her circle of friends. Hmm. Perhaps I should give the twelve year old a chance. After all, I do need a girlfriend, and beggars can’t be choosers.

So, it’s only Tuesday and I already have two promising girlfriend candidates. Wednesday night, my options increase. Laurel takes me to sushi with a big group of her girlfriends. A few I have already met, but by the end of the evening I am in love with all of them. The girl bonding is so pervasive that we end up inviting both the waitress and the girl on a bad date at the table next to us to join in our circle of female love. Instant girlfriends. I love it.

Friday afternoon, the girl bonding continues. This time it’s Sally welcoming me into her circle. While I feel like a bit of a loser hanging out with the retired set, I can’t help but admire the thirty year friendships they share. Sure, they might talk a little trash about whoever happens to be in the ladies room, but after thirty years, I suppose these women have earned the right to say what they like about each other without anyone questioning their love and loyalty. After all, together they have celebrated weddings and birthdays and grandchildren. They have cooked meals and nursed each other through cancer and hip replacements. They have supported each other through divorces and deaths of parents, spouses, even children. This is female friendship in all its beautiful, if sometimes bitchy, glory.

I’m a lucky girl, I know that. I have never lacked for true girlfriends, and after this week, I feel confident that I will find another. Maybe I’ve met her already, or maybe I’ll meet her next week or next month. She could be young or old or somewhere in between, but I know she’s out there. She won’t replace those amazing women who have already taken up residence in my heart, but she will join them, I’m sure. And one day, when I leave this country, I will cry and promise to stay in touch and wonder how I will ever find another girlfriend like…

And I know that I will take her with me in my heart to wherever I make my next home.

Now, if I can just find her.

Sunday, May 6, 2007

Good Intentions

I’ve started to drive. Yes, that is a story in and of itself, but not the one I’m thinking about at the moment. You see, now that I’m driving on my own, I am confronted at each red light with a dilemma: To give or not to give.

At one point in my life, I couldn’t walk past a homeless person without giving them a dollar or dropping fifty cents into their cup, but here, you can’t stop at a red light without having four people come to your window – if they’re not outright asking for money, they want you to buy the newspaper or plastic hangers or sunglasses, or pay them to clean your windshield. It would be impossible to give money to everyone, and if I did, I would soon find myself on the street begging as well!

And yet I want to help, but how?

I watched the “Idols Give Back” show this past Wednesday (it may be a few weeks behind, but there’s no escaping American Idol – even in Africa), and it was very affective in tugging at my heartstrings. My first instinct was to call the toll free number and make a donation, but there was no toll free number on my screen. In its place was the scrolling message stating: “not intended for solicitation outside of the USA.” This was a bit of a deterrent. I could go online to donate, I thought, but then it hit me – I’m already here, in Africa. Maybe there is more I could offer than just money (especially seeing as I’m not currently generating all that much of it).

As I watched Ryan and Simon visit the AIDS patients and feed the malnourished children, it reminded me that it wasn’t so long ago that I was pretty actively trying to make the world a better place…through campus organizations or an internship with a charity or even volunteering at a center for the elderly. Since college, however, about the only thing I have done is open my checkbook – which is important, of course, but not exactly what I meant when I wrote my college essay about “making the world a better place.”

Wanting to help must be the first step, but what exactly is the second one? Who do I talk to about going to an orphanage and singing to the children like Carrie Underwood? Am I even invited? (Okay, I’m definitely not invited to sing, but you get my point.) Maybe I should go visit someone dying of AIDS – who do I see about that? Or perhaps Oprah needs some help at her new school. Or how do I find out about becoming a UN Ambassador? Don’t get me wrong, I was Team Anniston all the way, but there is something to be said for Angelina’s strategic plan to save the world one baby at a time. Maybe she needs an assistant? Or perhaps I should jump on the adoption bandwagon and find myself a baby in Malawi (that could kill two birds with one stone – save a baby AND get the in-laws off my back about grandkids).

I’m sure my mother is terrified as she reads this and imagines me swapping my designer jeans for a loin cloth and moving to a hut in the Sudan. I’m exaggerating, of course (plus, she trusts my husband to be the level headed one). I know I don’t need to be quite so extreme, but where to start? I visit the UNICEF website for South Africa. I read story after story about the issues South African children face every day. Yes, this is where to begin. I click on “Support UNICEF” only to find ways to donate money. I type “volunteer” into the search engine, only to find articles about volunteers – nothing about becoming one. Hmmm. There’s no phone number, no “Contact Us” tab. I can’t even find an address. This might be trickier than I thought.

But I do want to help. Really, I do. I guess it will just take a little research. I’ll ask around. Maybe I’ll make some calls this week after my book club meeting. Or perhaps someone at my girls’ night out will know. I have that work event to attend with Roger this week too; maybe someone there will point me in the right direction. Oh, I’m also taking my nephew to see Spiderman 3, and I must go downtown to sort out my work visa. Actually…maybe I don’t have time to volunteer after all. Well, not this week anyway. Maybe next week – yes, I’ll start making the world a better place next week.